


A Part of Yourself

by yellow_craion



Series: Soulmates Yarn [7]
Category: Leverage, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Affection, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boundaries, Crying, Crying Magnus Bane, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Insecure Magnus Bane, Intimacy, M/M, Magnus Bane's Cat Eyes, Magnus is an abuse survivor, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Past Abuse, Past Magnus Bane/Camille Belcourt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red String of Fate, Soulmates, Touch-Starved, Warlock Marks (Shadowhunter Chronicles)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 21:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18881902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_craion/pseuds/yellow_craion
Summary: Magnus stretches his legs out, bumping into something.Just like every morning for most of his life, no matter if he’s alone or not, before even opening his eyes, Magnus double checks if his glamours are in place. Initial flare of panic fades when in his sleep-muddled state he remembers last night.Ah, yes. Waking up isn’t so bad, nowadays.





	A Part of Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> be warned, my beta had a hard time getting through and over the emotional bits in magnus pov, so have some tissues ready!
> 
> all the hugs and gratitude to my brave beta: lewispanda <3

Magnus is splayed flat on the sofa, legs kicked up on the armrest and one arm dangling off the side. His ears are still ringing from the portal he used to get home, mere moments ago. He'd love a drink or, even better, a restorative potion with a side of whiskey, but there's no way he can force his body up again. Dragging his feet to the sofa was difficult enough.

 

The spell he cast? He outdid himself. But it’s only right that he warded the Hotel, with a glamour for the added protection to keep the vampires safe. Raphael is like his son, of course Magnus would do anything to keep him safe.

 

And if he’s also partially motivated by guilt of what his own ex has put Raphael through, well… Raphael doesn’t need to know. He probably already does. It’s enough that he would have a fit if he found out Magnus drained himself putting up wards for him.

 

The warlock almost jumps in surprise when, instead of the silence he's expecting at this late hour, he hears some puttering in the kitchen.

 

Has Alec stayed up this whole time?

 

The man's been staying at Magnus' place some nights, more and more frequently in the last few weeks. Still, deep down, Magnus has been hoping he wouldn't have to face anyone in his spent state.

 

Even if that someone is his soulmate, which only makes the guilt flare up in his heart.

 

He looks towards the approaching footsteps; a greeting at the tip of his tongue. Then, he freezes, wide-eyed, only to let a curse come out of his mouth.

 

His glamours are down and he only just realized that. Magnus blinks a few times, but nothing happens.

 

He covers his face with his elbow in what surely must look like an over dramatic pose. In truth, he's too exhausted to bring it back and too scared to just spring it on Hardison without any warning, even after having done just that the night they met.

 

What’s worse, it’s not just his warlock mark now. Back in the alley he had full control over what exactly he wanted Hardison to see. The scars? He’s not sure he could ever be ready to share them with anyone, outside the very few Downworlders who already know.

 

"What?" Hardison asks, a nervous twitch to his lips.

 

The warlock keeps his arm up, hoping it looks casual. "Didn't expect you to wait up for me, that's all." He's touched. But also unprepared and his heartbeat is picking up speed. They haven't known each other long, maybe a month or so, and this is the first time he's this vulnerable since...

 

Probably since Ragnor saw him break down after Camille.

 

"Of course I waited," Alec huffs, as he's taking a seat at the edge of the low table next to the sofa.

 

Magnus cringes. Part of him knows that Alec won’t think him ungrateful, and yet he worries. Ever since Camille, his ability to read people got so... unreliable. Instead of trusting his instincts like he used to, he keeps second guessing himself.

 

So he reaches out to touch him, still without looking. When his hand bumps into a leg, he puts it on Alec’s knee, squeezing lightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“It’s ok.” Hardison covers his hand with his own, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “I made you that tea you like. Hope I didn’t screw it up too bad,” he says with a breathy laugh.

 

“It’s tea,” Magnus smiles, latching onto the opportunity for a safe banter. “I’m sure as long as you didn’t pour cold water over it, it will be just fine, Alec. Thank you.”

 

He doesn’t like his tea cold, or even luke warm, but he can’t bring himself to move. Hardison’s fingers are soothing away some of his stress, and in the quiet apartment he can hear him breathe close to him, soft and even. He tries to mimic it. Maybe with enough time, he will just fall asleep like this.

 

“Do you need anything?”

 

The warlock hums lazily.

 

“You’d be more comfortable in bed,” Alec says again, softer still, while his fingers smooth over Magnus’ hand, back and forth. Up over the rings, and back to his thumb; in a repetitive motion that is slowly making Magnus’ skin tingle.

 

The warlock lets out a contented sigh and settles into the sofa, his body growing heavy.

 

Then an unexpected crinkle of the cup as it’s being set on the table jars him out of it, a familiar pang of regret clutching at his chest.

 

“Sorry,” he repeats. They may be soulmates, but he can’t expect Hardison to read his mind, especially since the man’s never seen Magnus so spent after a job. “I’m just drained. That warding spell took more out of me than anticipated.”

 

“Are you in pain?” Hardison’s words warm Magnus inside and make him reconsider just looking at him, all else be damned.

 

“No,” he assures, then risks a peek through half-lidded eyes, hoping the shadow from his arm is covering him well enough. “Just tired. And my, uh... my glamours are gone,” he admits finally. “Can’t keep them up.”

 

“That’s why you won’t look at me? Magnus!” The last word sounds more like a whine than a name. He throws his hands up in exasperation, and Magnus flinches...

 

_ Stupid warlock! _

 

...and  hates himself for it, because Hardison isn’t  _ like that _ . He’s nothing like Camille. And Magnus can’t expect him to hide his opinions on the off-chance they upset the warlock.

 

He should have kept his mouth shut. Things are always simpler when he does.

 

He already misses his gentle touch on his hand.

 

“Magnus?” The whisper is barely audible. “I’m sorry, I didn’t... mean to scare you… I was just...”

 

Fuck! When has he become this transparent?

 

Magnus shuts his eyes tight, humiliated by how tentative Alec sounds because of him, and his own reactions. He takes in a deep breath that is way more shaky than he’d like, practically broadcasting how emotionally unsteady he is.

 

“I’m not angry or upset with you. I’m just, uh… I guess I get loud when annoyed,” Hardison snorts, then goes suspiciously quiet.

 

Only in the silence does Magnus realise the noises he’s making are way too close to sobbing. He smothers them fast with the palm of his hand, but it’s already too late to salvage whatever was left of his powerful image. He covers his burning face with his hands completely now, mortified by the wetness he finds there.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, promise! I didn’t, I’m not really annoyed, uh... I just assumed that since you showed me your eyes when we met, you weren’t… shy about them? I mean, why would you…”

 

Magnus feels a hand on his thigh, warm and gentle. He is listening silently, holding his breath without really meaning to. And hoping for the touch to stay.

 

“They’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

 

His soulmate sounds defeated and so sad, that it makes Magnus clench his jaw in frustration.

 

He upset Alec. So, naturally, he nods, ready to agree to anything Alec wants him to.

 

It had taken so much time for him to allow himself to put his frustration and anger away from himself and into his vampire ex. Would Ragnor criticize him for feeling it now? Would Raphael?

 

He’s fairly certain this time it’s where it belongs, and that Hardison hasn’t done anything wrong. Magnus is the one who’s overreacting. Not only that, but comparing Hardison to Camille is doing the man a great disservice, and yet he’s done it again, now. At this rate, Alec is going to question his loyalty...

 

Hardison lets out a sigh, which is a signal to the warlock that he’s not been believed or kept silent too long. He still has no idea what to say, though.

 

“If it would make you more comfortable, I can go,” Hardison offers and Magnus is glad to already be flat on his back, otherwise he’d collapse. All his romantic relationships failed because he dared to show his warlock mark. Now that he’s found his soulmate - he’s about to walk out, if he doesn’t get to see his warlock mark.

 

“Do you have someone you could call? Don’t really think you should be alone now.”

 

Magnus is ready to sob. He drops his arms down and pushes himself upright, shaking his head. He looks up slowly, all too aware of tears in his eyes, heart lodged up in his throat as he’s awaiting Alec’s judgement. “Sorry,” he croaks. “Please don’t leave.”

 

“Why are you sorry?” Hardison’s face is open when he speaks. He’s frowning, like he’s trying to memorize the warlock’s face, but as hard as Magnus is looking, he can’t find any sign of horror or disgust. And it’s all the stranger, because he’s not only seeing his cat eyes, but the scars around them, now that none of his glamours are up.

 

“Most people aren’t able to stand the sight,” he explains barely above a whisper, waving a hand to his face. “Of, of my eyes. And what they mean...”

 

“Most people are jackasses,” Hardison responds like it’s the most obvious thing. “But I still don’t get why you’re apologizing. None of it is your fault, man.”

 

“You… you won’t leave?” He hates how close to begging he is. If all it takes for his soulmate to stay with him is to have his mark on display...

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Magnus. Not unless you want me to,” Alec smiles softly and wraps his hands around Magnus’, and the warlock is absurdly happy to have that touch back.

Magnus leans forward, until his forehead rests on Hardison’s chest. He lets out a sigh when the other man wraps his arms around him.

 

“It’s okay. I got you. I wish you didn’t feel like you need to hide from me...”

 

The warlock gulps past the lump in his throat, knowing all too well where this is heading.

 

“...but it’s ok if you do.”

 

Magnus freezes, staring down at his lap, not daring to look up at Alec; not wanting to move from the embrace either. “What?” A shiver runs up his spine and he frowns, going over the words in his mind, just in case he misheard them.

 

“I just mean,” Hardison says, rubbing soft circles over the warlock’s neck. “You’re not ready to share something, then you’re not ready. Take your time.”

 

Magnus sniffs as quietly as he is able to and grabs fistfuls of Hardison’s sweater at his sides.

 

\--

  
  


Magnus grows aware of reality around him slowly. First thing he notices is warmth and the pillow under his cheek. Still, his mind clings lazily to the dream he was having, all fuzzy by now, and when he can’t recall anything specific to go back to, he resigns himself to waking up fully.

 

He stretches his legs out, bumping into something.

 

Ah, yes. Waking up isn’t so bad, nowadays.

 

Just like every morning for most of his life, no matter if he’s alone or not, before even opening his eyes, Magnus double checks if his glamours are in place. Initial flare of panic fades when in his sleep-muddled state he remembers last night. Struggling to get past deep rooted habits, the warlock stays glamour-less.

 

The fabric makes a soft sound when he turns around to face Alec, and the warlock concludes that he is still asleep. He’s envious. A glance to the clock on the wall confirms he has little over an hour till his first client for today. He gives Hardison a quick peck and gets out of bed. 

 

\--

  
  


Hardison wakes a few hours later. He makes himself somewhat presentable and comes up to the bedroom door to listen. All seems quiet, so he decides to take his chances and ventures out, aiming for the kitchen. He really wouldn’t want to interrupt Magnus when he’s with a client.

 

“Good morning!”

 

He startles at the cheery voice.

 

Magnus is coming in from the balcony, dressed in gold and burgundy hues that look spectacular in the sun as it’s shining from behind him.

 

“Hey. Is it still morning?” Shaking off any remnants of sleep clouding his brain, Hardison takes a bit longer to notice the cat eyes looking back at him and he smiles back stupidly. He can only hope his appreciation is showing on his face, because he can’t think of putting it into words.

 

“Just barely,” he chuckles. “You slept through my first client. I’m going out shortly for my next appointment, so I’m afraid you’ll be eating breakfast alone.”

 

“Okay. Think I’ll manage.” Quietly he considers either ordering something in or just skipping breakfast entirely.

 

Magnus gives him a doubtful look, but doesn’t press the issue. Instead he looks away.

 

Hardison looks closely, something about the warlock is nagging at him, something feels off. He’s reminded of last night when he notices Magnus flexing his fingers at his side. By now he’s familiar with that gesture.

 

His warlock is stressed about something.

 

“You feeling okay? You were dead on your feet yesterday.” As he’s asking, he can only hope it’s not himself that’s worrying Magnus. That instead it’s a demanding client or something else, easy to fix.

 

“I’m all good!” Magnus grins and he lifts it up his hand, demonstrating sparks flying off his palm playfully. “A good night sleep, and a restorative potion really do wonders for magic depletion. That, and cocktails,” he adds with a wink.

 

Without a conscious thought, Alec steps closer, mesmerized by the view.

 

They share a soft smile.

 

“I better be off,” Magnus closes his hand and lets it drop to his side again. “It may be just a portal away trip, but it’s still easy to be late.” He closes the distance between them for a goodbye kiss, and when they part, his glamour is back up.

 

“Sorry, I need my glamour in public. But as soon as we’re alone, it’s down, alright?”

 

Hardison picks up on the fear in the over-eager tone. He’d smack himself for not noticing it earlier.

 

Magnus moves faster, than Alec can open his mouth; the warlock already a few steps away, just about to open a portal, when he calls to stop him.

 

“Magnus?”

 

He can’t let them part ways like that.

 

The warlock pauses with his back to Alec, shoulder tense for a briefest of moments, before he turns on his heel to face Hardison with a smile that’s too wide to be genuine.

 

“I love your eyes, but this isn’t, uh…. I’m not… uh,” Hardison looks up to the ceiling, frustrated, not knowing how to word it. Then he notices the frown and the jaw clench on his soulmate and he wants to wipe that worry off his face. For good.

 

“This isn’t about me, yeah?” He comes closer, but stays out of the warlock’s personal space.  “There’s no time ratio calculation going on in my head of when I see your brown eyes versus the cat eyes. It’s your eyes. I just want you to be comfortable. It’s up to you if it’s with or without your glamour.”

 

The warlock is staring, his mouth open in a silent oh.

 

“You understand?” Hardison needs him to understand.

 

The warlock wraps his arms around him and melts into the embrace. “I do,” he says as he’s resting his head in the crook of Alec’s neck, thinking how Hardison will probably never realize just how much that statement means to him.

 


End file.
